


Coming Clean

by Jedi Buttercup (jedibuttercup)



Category: Fast and the Furious Series, The Fast and the Furious (2001)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Development, Getting Together, M/M, Wordcount: 5.000-10.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-06-18
Packaged: 2020-04-06 09:44:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19060135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jedibuttercup/pseuds/Jedi%20Buttercup
Summary: Life's simple, you make choices and you don't look back.  So if Brian was going to do this thing, then he was damn well going to do it right.





	Coming Clean

**Author's Note:**

  * For [arysteia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/arysteia/gifts).



> I don't usually write during the first movie in this series either, so it was a really interesting idea to me to try to diverge things that far back. So: an attempt at two stunningly attractive people, reassessing each other during their first overly-invested-in-each-other adventure. :)

The air in the Cuban restaurant was warm, filled with the scents of good food and the sounds of cheerful conversation. The perfect place for a first date – well, if it really _had_ been a first date. The look on Vince's face when Mia had tricked the name of the restaurant out of him, and the smirk in Muse's voice when Brian had reported in about his latest 'information gathering opportunity', both suggested a somewhat different definition. Which was just as well, really; Mia was gorgeous and smart and deserved all the happiness she could get her hands on, but any way Brian sliced it she wasn't likely to find that with him. Even if his only aim in taking her out _had_ been showing her a good time.

Maybe if he hadn't just had all his self-delusions punctured by her brother, Brian might have given it a try anyway, told himself that he could go for it without anybody getting hurt. But all throughout the meal, the laughter, and the shared stories that followed, it hadn't been Mia or their date he'd really been thinking about. It was the growl of Dom's shared confidences in the quiet, oil-scented space of the Toretto family garage, filling in the missing piece he hadn't wanted to find to solve his undercover assignment. Reminding him of the choice he was about to have to make: one he really should have seen coming a long time ago.

The thing was, he really had gone into this career intending to be a clean cop. Well, maybe not during his scared-straight phase right after juvie – back then, Brian had mostly been looking for a way _out_ of the airless, downshifted future he saw stretching out in front of him – but definitely after his best friend had got caught with a garage full of hot cars and decided to blame everything gone wrong in his life on _him_. Never mind all the years he and Rome had spent covering each others' asses before that, getting into and out of every kind of trouble together; the fact that he _hadn't_ been there that one time had suddenly become the ultimate sin in Roman Pearce's mind. So afterward, Brian had decided to make a clean cut between the old life and the new.

After all, what had he had left to lose? If he was going to do this thing, then he was damn well going to do it right. Balls to the wall, the same way he'd always done everything he thought was worth doing. And he'd been pulling it off, too, on the fast track to detective and everything.

It might not have been racing, but being _that guy_ had seemed like the next best thing. Getting some of the _actual_ bad guys off the streets, the type that preyed on people like the ones he and Rome had grown up with. Doing something constructive with all the energy and adrenaline that had always got him into trouble before. Even earning the approval of a guy like Sergeant Tanner; maybe it had been naïve of him, but it had meant a hell of a lot to a re-orphaned Brian O'Conner. The occasional hazing, snarl of paperwork, sticky situation when actual justice seemed to fall through the cracks of bureaucracy, had just been the price he'd accepted he had to pay for the rest of it.

He hadn't been prepared for what it would feel like, though, to be back on the street again amid the cheers of a crowd and the scent of gasoline fumes in the air. Standing on the fringes of a makeshift family that reminded him all too much of he and Rome, back in the day. Not that they'd had anywhere near the skill level of Dom and his crew – they'd been too inexperienced and undisciplined back then – but the atmosphere, the adrenaline, the banter, the flash of wads of cash as they slapped from palm to palm ... it was like the first hit on a cigarette after several long, cold months without.

Then the bullets. The party; the _respect_. Getting his hands under the hood of a car again. That familiar feeling in the air, a prickling along his spine like a low-pressure system catching its breath before a storm – that wild, reckless energy that made him yearn for the curve of a steering wheel under his hands and a fit, hard body under his own. Nicotine might hook the body, but that shit went all the way down to the soul. It made it hard to remember why he'd ever tried to quit in the first place.

By the time Brian found himself smiling across a candlelit table at Cha Cha Cha at his mark's laughing little sister ... well, whatever he may have intended at the beginning, he was in way too deep to fool himself about it anymore. He'd built his career as a cop on his ability to keep his cool, to run his mouth and make people believe whatever he had to sell them, parsing truths so fine that no one ever heard the lie. But he'd earned that skill long before he ever put on a badge, in the service of a makeshift family built on choice and shared experience, not blood. Tanner hadn't been wrong, not really; except that it wasn't Mia blurring his vision, it was everything – and everyone – that came along with her. 

He'd already lost that kind of family once, through no real fault of his own. He was beginning to think there wasn't much he wouldn't do to keep it from happening a second time. 

"It's just the way my brother is, you know," Mia mused aloud, accidentally echoing his thoughts as she finished her description of the Toretto team. "Dom's like ... gravity. Everything just gets pulled to him. Even you." She paused there, eying him with a faint smile that turned knowing as she searched his face for something she didn't seem to expect to find.

Brian knew what he should say if he wanted to keep up the façade: to charm her into his bed and use the cover of their relationship to work his way deeper into her brother's good graces. But the thing about façades was that they could never truly substitute for the real thing. The only thing that would earn him in the end was the kind of wreck he'd be lucky if _anyone_ walked away from.

Maybe if Bilkins hadn't been so keen on using him as a scapegoat for anything that went wrong, or maybe if he was more concerned about the law and less about the people breaking it, he might have been able to accept the prospect of that kind of collateral damage. But he'd already been shot at once in this job, and nearly ended up on the wrong end of a shotgun another. There wouldn't be any clean arrests here, even if he did his job to the letter. He didn't need Tanner to tell him what Dom's little speech about freedom meant, spoken in the shadow of his dad's Charger – and as far as he was concerned, that outcome was _unacceptable_.

It was also starting to look pretty damned inevitable, given what the team was probably doing right at that moment, while the new guy and the little sister were conveniently out of the way. The sense of desperation he felt at that thought was completely out of proportion for how little time he'd really spent in Toretto's orbit ... and just as impossible to ignore.

Brian looked down and let his mouth curve in a sheepish smile. Time for a slightly more risky truth, then. "Is it really that obvious?"

He didn't miss the quickly hidden flash of pain in Mia's eyes ... nor the fact that she didn't let it affect the wry, teasing tone of her reply. "As much as I might have liked to believe I might come first for once ... yeah, it really is. You're not exactly subtle, you know."

"That bad, huh?" Brian shook his head, laughing. "I'd apologize, but you _have_ seen your brother, right? But I figured it wouldn't hurt anything to show you a good time, and maybe rub it in Vince's face a little more while I was at it. Assuming I wasn't reading that part wrong?"

Mia rolled her eyes, relaxing a little at his light-hearted tone. "Assuming I'd admit it, even if you were. But yeah, it's been fun. I wouldn't recommend doing it again, though, unless you want Dom to get the wrong idea. He and Letty might be off-again now, but even as fast as he's taken to you, you have a lot of work cut out for you there even _without_ him thinking you're chasing the other Toretto."

"I'm almost tempted to ask if that would be so bad," he replied, waggling his eyebrows, "except you deserve better than that, and somehow I don't think it would be any less likely to get me killed."

"Oh, he wouldn't _kill_ you. He'd leave that to me, if you disappointed me," she grinned.

"Well, we certainly don't want _that_ ," Brian tipped his chin in acknowledgement. Sometime during the conversation, the waitress had left the check; he made a show out of opening his wallet and dropping enough cash to cover the whole thing, then gave Mia a wry look.

"Speaking of getting you killed," she rolled her eyes again, mischievously. "If you're covering the check, then I've got the entertainment. How about we get out of here and go for a drive?"

He'd seen Mia's car; she might not race like her brother did, but that didn't make her any less a Toretto behind the wheel. He wasn't worried. But it did give him the perfect opportunity to drop another hint.

"As long as I get back in time to catch a few hours' sleep on the cot at Harry's. He's been agitated enough lately with calls at odd hours, strange guys stopping by – some asshole asked a lot of intrusive questions after that time Dom nearly got me fired, and Harry was pretty skittish about it afterward. I don't want to tempt fate by being late for my shift tomorrow. I kind of need this job."

A line came and went between Mia's brows, but she waved it off as they left the table. "Even if you did, Dom would probably fix that, too. I _did_ say he'd taken to you pretty quick, didn't I? But don't worry, I'll get you back before you turn into a pumpkin."

"Wait, who exactly is the princess in this metaphor?" he teased, giving her a mock-suspicious look.

She laughed, bright and cheerful, and for the next couple of hours they left all their worries behind them.

Atmosphere, adrenaline, and banter. If he hadn't been caught already, he really _would_ have been tempted to ask her back to his borrowed room, extend the pleasure of the evening for a few more hours. But there were bigger things on the line, and Brian wasn't _that_ much of an asshole.

He left her at the end of the evening with a kiss to the cheek and a rueful look, and not too many hours later – after a night of tossing and turning interrupted by a call from Tanner confirming another heist had taken place – the conversation paid the intended dividends. Dominic Toretto, expression as serious as the grave, walked in through the door of Harry's shop.

It wasn't quite lunch time yet – if it was, Brian would already have been over at the store eating more of Mia's tuna – but privacy was probably a good idea for the conversation he hoped would follow. He finished up the last few keystrokes on the order he was entering, then waved a hand in Harry's direction. "Taking lunch early, Harry; I'll be back in a few."

Harry's eyes darted from Brian, to Dom looming just inside the door, then back to Brian, an apprehensive set to his mouth that Dom would have to've been blind not to notice. "Whatever you say, man."

"Thanks." Brian nodded to Dom, then fell in beside him as Dom grunted and stepped back outside.

They climbed into Dom's car without a word, then headed out, windows down. It was a gorgeous day, warm but not too hot, with a few streamers of white breaking up the intensity of the blue sky. The slipstream tossed wild blond curls around Brian's face as they picked up speed, and he decided, all things considered, that he was going to take it as a cautiously positive sign.

"So," Dom finally said. "When I told you I'd break your neck if you broke her heart...."

His dark eyes were more considering than suspicious as he glanced across the width of the car, gaze warm and heavy with the almost magnetic connection that had drawn Brian to him since the first time their eyes had met. But he could tell from the crinkle at the corner of Dom's eyes that there was amusement behind it, too. Was he really trying to imply that he was annoyed his sister _hadn't_ got laid? Or just pulling Brian's pigtails himself?

Brian rolled his eyes and replied in kind. "Told you, that's not gonna happen. She'd already told me she doesn't date her brother's friends. Think she was mostly using me to teach Vince a lesson, actually, and it's not like it was any kind of hardship to treat your sister to a good meal and a friendly drive. Don't think I need to tell _you_ that she's got talent; it's a shame she doesn't race."

Dom threw him a raised eyebrow, mood sobering a little at the shift in topic. "You tell _her_ that?"

Brian snorted. He'd done some pretty stupid things in his time, but he wasn't _that_ dumb. "Didn't seem like any of my business. If I had to guess, though, I'd say she finds her freedom in other ways. She's good, but she doesn't _need_ it the way the rest of us do, does she?"

"Not as blond as you look," Dom conceded. Then he sighed and finally picked up the thread Brian had so carefully dropped. Speaking of stupid things. "So. Mia have it right? Harry's in some kind of trouble?" 

"You'd know better than I would," Brian replied, choosing his words carefully. "You've known him a lot longer than I have. You ever know him to skirt the legal side of a things a little too far? Source some of his parts off the back of a truck, so to speak, or something like that? 'Cause what it sounded like to me is that he's got pressure coming down on him from somewhere. Guys asking questions, expecting answers that they're not getting."

Dom gave him a thoughtful look, the furrow in his brow deepening. It wasn't quite as dark as the expression from a certain late-night encounter in an alley outside El Gato Negro, but it was approaching the same neighborhood: entering tricky territory now. "Sounds to me like you're spilling an awful lot of the man's private business. You going to tell me that this relates back to Race Wars too, somehow?"

Brian drew in a careful breath, then let it out. There was a tight line he had to walk here; one that depended a lot more on how Dom felt about _him_ than anything else. He knew how he wanted it to go, given the way the conversation had played out so far and from what he and Dom had shared the day before, but it was impossible to know for sure without actually hearing him say the words.

He could almost feel the adrenaline thrumming in his veins at the thought; and okay, maybe he _was_ more addicted to the thrill than he ever had been to the actual job of being a cop. He was probably hoping for too much, trying to have his cake and eat it, too. But he'd never been a half measures kind of guy, and it was a little too late to start that shit now.

Even in the alleyway, Dom had to have known his explanation was bullshit. Especially after the way he lingered over those stacks of electronics at Tran's place. But he'd been willing to give Brian the benefit of the doubt, even then. And after the Charger....

"I'm going to trust you understand what it means when I say it isn't just personal anymore. Because I also heard that truckers are arming," he said, evenly meeting Dom's gaze. "Whatever's going on, it for damn sure isn't Harry doing it, which means these guys just as surely expect him to be in contact with the ones who _are_. And it seems to me you have just as good a chance at knowing who those people are as he does."

The implications were pretty clear; the fig leaves of _heard_ and _know_ didn't do much more than provide a little distance for plausible deniability's sake. Brian saw the instinct for denial in the way Dom's eyes widened – and then the surging anger as he processed what Brian's knowledge meant. 

The tension in the car grew thick enough to cut with a knife; then Dom slammed on the brakes, pulling hard to the side of the road, and for about half a second Brian's stomach was in freefall. But then they screeched to a halt in a restaurant parking lot, and Dom looked away, making tight fists against the wheel.

"I ain't in the mood to talk about this on an empty stomach," he said after a moment, his voice a low, tense rumble. "But you better think real careful about what you're going to say when I do."

Brian took another deep breath, then nodded and got out of the car. Lunch, right. It was almost disorienting, snapping back from the tunnel vision of just the two of them in the car to putting his public face back on – another sign, really, if he'd still been keeping track. Rome would have mocked the hell out of him if they were still talking. He always had blamed Brian's dick for getting him into trouble, even if – maybe especially when – things were a little more complicated. 

Dom said nothing more on the subject while they ordered and ate, though from time to time he studied Brian's expression again, expression calculating and foreboding. Shop talk about the Supra filled the time as they ate; it was nearly ready to race, the promise of its 2JZ engine paying out in Jesse's build. Finally, they mopped up the last of their meals, paid the check, and headed back out to the car.

"So, just to make things clear," Dom began, crossing his arms and stopping in front of the driver's side door of the RX-7. "You're _suggesting_ that Harry's in trouble with the cops. That maybe he's turned CI to avoid jail time, but hasn't been able to give them all the information they want. And somehow his new parts guy, the one he was so keen to hold onto even after I told him to get rid of him for throwing down with Vince, just so happened to overhear all these pertinent details. And just so _happened_ to know which ones were important enough to pass on."

"Somehow, yeah," Brian nodded, deliberately mirroring Dom's posture. His palms were sweating again, but there was no point in backing down now. He hadn't gone to all this effort just to fade in the clutch.

"Sleeping in Harry's shop. Selling turbos and NOS to guys like Hector. Eating my sister's awful tuna. Driving right into Johnny Tran's territory just when you conveniently owe me a ten second car," Dom observed slowly, voice deepening as he enumerated the coincidences. "Do I really gotta ask the next question, Brian?"

"Depends on the question," Brian said, wryly. He'd always known Dom had to be smarter than his official file made it seem; in any sane world, he'd have had his sentence reduced for diminished capacity. But neither of them had ever been that lucky. "If you want to know whether the raid was orchestrated? Could have been; not like I was ever in any position to know. If you're asking if Harry's parts guy might be a real convenient spot for the PD to slip someone in undercover ... well. Depends on the size of the task force, and how much pressure the FBI's been putting on the MAPD."

Dom's eyebrows lifted, and his response was very dry. "Not that you were ever _in any position to know_?"

Brian's composure cracked a little at the near-echo of Rome's accusations, and his response came out a little sharper than he'd intended. "Believe it or not, but why the fuck would I lie about something like this? Maybe _you_ care more about your pride than whose blood gets spilled, but I'd just as soon see everyone get out of this in one piece."

He stepped closer as he spoke, keeping the words low, one finger jabbing against the muscular wall of Dom's chest. "You, me, the team, even the guys shaking down Harry. But he's not saying anything. And neither is _anyone else_. Nothing else ever happens? Maybe those questions never _get_ answered. Maybe all that ever has to change is my day job, and I keep eating Mia's tuna and working at DT's on the weekends to pay off that car. Or ... maybe another shipment gets hit, and she ends up attending your funeral. You trusted me yesterday, so I'm trusting you right now. Don't push it, Dom."

A muscle jumped in Dom's jaw, and he pushed back, slapping Brian's hand away. " _You're_ telling _me_ not to push? You come down to my neighborhood, make friends with my sister, lie to my whole family, and expect me to do _anything_ you tell me? I shoulda listened to Vince."

Brian snorted. "Yeah, and I shoulda listened to _my_ Vince, back when he told me I was fooling myself that joining up was the right thing to do. But you didn't, and I didn't, and here we are. Not a thing in that background check was a lie, except for the names and my real job the last few years. You _know_ who I am, Dom. And none of these questions make a damn bit of difference."

"And maybe at least one question _does_ need an answer, if you expect me to trust a single damn word you're saying," Dom corrected him, bitterly.

And there, at last, was the question Brian _had_ been expecting. In a team that ran on familial loyalty – if you broke your word, how could anyone ever expect to trust it again? Even if that word was to an enemy; especially if that bond had lasted far longer than the span of their friendship. 

"Why."

"Why." Dom agreed. "Didn't take you for that kind of suicidal."

"If someone noticed that there'd been no injuries," Brian suggested. It wasn't _just_ about lust and family, though those had been the biggest factors – not that he'd tell Dom that straight out. "Minimal property damage. Only the missing goods. If that someone might have maybe been a foster kid in Barstow and did worse himself as a teenager to survive, and heard that certain hotheads might be arming up with shotguns. Maybe that someone joined the force to _help_ people, not see them hurt. And maybe he realized he'd found a family again, where he wasn't expecting one." 

Dom narrowed his eyes, voice roughening further with accusation. "And that someone expects to be rewarded for what, his noble intentions?"

"No," Brian scoffed, abandoning the pretense. This hadn't gone at all how he'd wanted, but he still didn't see how he could have done anything else and still looked himself in the mirror in the morning. "That someone realized he was in way over his head. I was actually hoping like hell that it wasn't you; that I didn't have to make this choice. But once I realized it was – I knew none of the bullshit mattered to me, either. I get it, you know. Freedom's why I got the hell out of Barstow in the first place. But it cost me the only person there who still mattered. I didn't want it to cost me you. I don't want it to see it cost you – everyone else."

Something flickered in Dom's eyes at that admission, and he shook his head, chuckling mirthlessly. "Vince told me I trusted you too fast. So did Letty. What the hell am I gonna do with you, Brian? If your name even _is_ Brian."

Brian swallowed and decided to go for broke. After all, Dom had yet to reach for a wrench, and Brian always had been the kid who played with fire. They'd parked to the side of the restaurant, blocked from the street by the big truck parked next to them and from the windows by a low wall of shrubs, so there wasn't anyone close by to watch him step back into Dom's personal space and press him against the warm steel of the car.

He'd been wanting to do that since the day before, listening to Dom bare his heart in front of one of the few things that scared him. _Admitting_ that something scared him, to a guy he'd only just met. Only the fact that Brian had already set up the date with Mia had held him back from making a really dumb move right then. But he'd already pissed Dom off about as much as he possibly could today ... and he really didn't think he'd been wrong about the way Dom had always watched him back. He waited half a second for Dom to object, pulse throbbing in his throat and places southward from the intensity in Dom's gaze, then hissed a frustrated breath and leaned in to meet him as the heat of Dom's hands bracketed his hips instead.

The kiss only lasted a moment, just the space of an uncertain breath; but it was long enough for heat to sear through him, lighting his nerves in an echo of everything he'd ever wanted. Then he steeled himself to pull back, struggling to keep the emotions off his face. 

"Whatever you want. And, yeah, it is."

Dom's expression was nearly inscrutable, but the hitch of his breath gave away his own turmoil. He stood there a moment longer, gaze dipping to Brian's mouth, then swore under his breath and pushed until Brian took a long step back. Then he took a piece of paper from his pocket.

"Directions to Race Wars," he said tightly, body language stiff with discomfort. "You don't come around the house or the store before then. You only show up at DT's to test drive the car. I make some money off your ass, no cops show up at the house, maybe I decide you're more delusional than dangerous and we have another conversation. But if I see or hear anything else that threatens my family...."

If Brian had to bet, considering the timing of everything? He'd bet the next heist after last night's was supposed to be during their stay out in the desert. Race Wars would make for excellent distraction and alibi, both. But it was Dom's choice now whether or not to go through with it; there was nothing else Brian could do or say to influence that decision.

"You won't," he said heavily, reaching out to take the piece of paper. "Your choice whether to say anything to Harry. But if someone was going to say something else ... they might say something about deniability."

Dom nodded sharply, then turned and got into the car, turning the key in the ignition and peeling out without waiting for Brian.

Brian smiled tiredly to himself, then pulled his phone out of his pocket and made a call.

* * *

The raid on the Trans generated about what Brian had expected: not a damn thing other than a few low-rent weapons charges. Whatever the Vietnamese gang was doing with all those DVD players in their garage, it had at least a pretense of legality ... and threw up enough dust that Bilkins finally stopped pretending he gave a damn about anything other than coming out of it all smelling like a rose.

Someone had to shovel the shit, though. And whatever Brian might have thought he was aiming for with his career before ... the fallout of the raid just confirmed what he'd already been thinking. If the job was going to _keep_ throwing him into company with assholes like Bilkins, then maybe Rome had been right about him all along.

"Yeah? Then maybe I _will_ think about another career," he threw in Bilkins' face. "My testimony about what happened to the Eclipse not mean anything now? Show me another team out there with _half_ the violence on their records as Tran's crew, or anywhere near the social connections to cover shit like that up. _You_ might call those weapons charges low-rent, but I was the one standing there when he and his cousin sprayed bullets into a vehicle loaded with NOS just because he thought we were _trespassing_ , and when he pumped a guy full of oil and kicked him in the teeth because he didn't like what he was telling him.

"Maybe Toretto _did_ unload on a guy once in a blind rage," he continued, spinning for all he was worth. "But he did the damn time, and he's got a hell of a lot more to lose now. Don't listen to me, that's your prerogative. But if it were me, I'd tack any more charges I could on Tran's guys. And then see what happens next. Or what _doesn't_ happen, if you catch my drift."

"You _that_ sure something's going to happen in those thirty-six hours? You know something else you're not telling us, O'Conner?" Bilkins hinted, glaring at him.

"I'm that sure I'm doing my _job_. How about you hold up your end of the bargain," Brian glared back, then turned and walked away, putting an end to the conversation.

Tanner followed him out into the courtyard of the house the taskforce had been using as a center of operations, watching him pace with a concerned frown. But there was more than a hint of judgment there, too; Brian really had been blinding himself to reality here.

"It _is_ Toretto, Brian," the sergeant said, intently. "It always has been and you know it. What the hell's going on with you? I get being blinded by Mia; we all do stupid things from time to time. But you're too good a cop not to know there's going to be consequences from what just happened in there. Anything else happens, you might be making a choice you can't come back from."

Brian stared down into the courtyard's water feature, then shook his head. Maybe he _had_ been subconsciously using Tanner as a father figure for a while, but he was more than old enough to follow his own judgment. And maybe he'd never been more than the same wolf he ever was; he'd just put on sheep's clothing for a while. 

"I joined the force for a reason. And that reason hasn't changed. You can think what you want; but I haven't lied to you yet. You just don't want to hear what I have to say."

"Well, I guess we'll see, won't we," Tanner replied, tone as heavy as the look in his eyes.

"I guess we will," Brian shrugged. Whatever happened, he was going to lose _someone_ from this; but he could live with Tanner being disappointed in him much better than Dominic Toretto. "Race Wars should put an end to it, one way or another."

"You better hope so." Tanner shook his head and went back inside.

* * *

As promised, Brian didn't show at any of the Toretto properties until he went to pick up the finished car the next day; not that that stopped Jesse from coming into Harry's for one last thing for his dad's Jetta, making confused eyes at Brian as he stepped away to let another staffer handle the order.

Watching Jesse ... it made him remember what had happened with Rome all over again. Brian might not have had anything to do with that particular arrest, but the reason it had happened had been clear as clear: Rome had been the youngest of the crew left, and the easiest to pin it all on when things got hot. No Brian left to stand with him, help him get away when the sirens blared and the rest of the crew scattered, leaving him holding the bag. Dom's crew wouldn't leave Jesse in that position, but he'd go to jail for it all the same if they all went down. Dom wouldn't be there to protect him, just like Brian hadn't been for Rome. And he knew what would happen to a kid like Jesse behind bars. 

He gave Jesse a surreptitious wave and tapped his watch as he left; Jesse nodded, and a few hours later, Brian made his way back, hands in pockets, to see if Dom had come to a conclusion.

Dom studied him for a moment outside DT's with a pursed mouth, key ring clutched tight in his hand. No one else was around; whether that was because they knew and had voluntarily scattered, or whether Dom was still keeping the truth to himself, Brian couldn't tell. But he held the keys out without any hesitation. 

"Still not time for that conversation. But you got one chance. Show me."

Brian let his fingers linger as he took the keys. The same spark jolted between them at the touch that had lingered in the air during every conversation since the first time they'd met face to face; since Dom had thrown him into a car, and all thought of using Mia as his in had become secondary.

"Any guidelines?" he asked, quirking a hopeful half-smile.

"Impress me," Dom replied, not budging an inch.

Brian nodded, then climbed in and gestured to the passenger seat without a word.

The ten-second mile had never really been Brian's gig; there was no question Dom was better at that sort of race than anyone else he'd ever seen. But Dom had never really seen Brian at his best before, either; he'd played up the buster image more than a little at that first race, not all that hard with a car and setup more staged than he was really used to. But on the road, in live traffic: _that_ Brian could do.

He pulled up next to a Ferrari a few minutes out from the garage, and slid a querying look toward Dom.

Dom raised an eyebrow back, and gave explicit permission: "Smoke him."

Atmosphere, adrenaline, victory, and now lust; it made it even harder to remember why he'd ever thought a career in law enforcement was even close. But he wasn't the only one with a choice. Dom would have something else to say; Brian would only spoil it if he tried to make more excuses.

Sure enough, about ten minutes out from the garage, Dom sighed and shook his head. "Knew from the start that that cool of yours was your meal ticket. Guess I shouldn't be surprised it went a little deeper than I knew. Anything else you want to tell me, Brian Who-Let-Us-Read-His-Last-Name-Off-His-Drivers'-License?" 

There was a wry note lurking in Dom's tone; Brian shook his head, grinning back as a wave of relief broke over him. "It's O'Conner. And I didn't think you took me for that kind of suicidal. You said after Race Wars; so we'll have that conversation after Race Wars. Might want to avoid Tran until then, though; if he shows up, he's likely to be in a pretty bad mood."

"The oil thing. The gunfire. You throw a little shade his way?" Dom frowned.

"Maybe someone did; maybe someone didn't. No lies were told in the making of _that_ shit sandwich, regardless. You going to tell me he didn't deserve some payback?"

"Deserving's one thing. Narcing's another."

"Protect and serve," Brian reminded him. "Firing at me and you's one thing. But what about the innocent that gets caught in the crossfire next time?"

Dom frowned at him. "More hypotheticals, Brian? Seems a little risky, don't you think?"

"Hmm. Me, only taking a _little_ risk? Maybe you're right; I'm clearly falling down on the job, here," Brian teased.

He pulled into a parking space half a block from the garage, the sunset sky outside lending a warm glow to Dom's expression. Or maybe the warmth had already been there, all along. He leaned in, giving Dom plenty of time to react to this second attempt, and fit his mouth against Dom's in electric slow motion.

For a long moment, it seemed like the world was holding its breath; then Dom moved, one hand coming up to frame Brian's face and pull him in closer.

It wasn't a gentle kiss, any more than the first was; there was too much still unsaid for that, pressed bruisingly between them. But it wasn't a rejection, either. Dom's lips were warm and slightly chapped; the weight of his palm against Brian's cheek a reminder of just how much power lay in the man's muscles. Power he wasn't using against Brian: strength yielding, ever so slightly, to Brian's touch. It might not be tender, but it was still more encouragement than he'd expected, even – or perhaps especially – after the encounter outside the restaurant. 

"Like I said. Whatever you want," he blurted, feeling the spark of triumph in his chest as he pulled back: like hitting the NOS at exactly the right moment and feeling the world rush by. "After Race Wars, though. I always race better when I'm hungry."

"Do you," Dom smirked. "After Race Wars, then, we'll see. Lot riding on that outcome. And what about after? You thought about what you want me to say to the rest of the team? To Vince? To _Mia_?"

He _hadn't_ told them, then. Relief and trepidation both rushed through Brian, tangled in an uncomfortable morass of emotion – but that was still a worry for another day. "Might not be an issue after all," he shrugged again. "Like you said, a lot riding on the next couple days. And if it does become an issue? Well, like you said. I'm in it for the quarter mile: I'll cross that finish line when it comes."

Dom nodded. "That serious, huh. Guess there's always a time when enough is enough."

"Might have had a few loud voiced conversations about that, the last couple of days," Brian acknowledged, smile widening. "One thing's for sure; I'll never be a politician."

If enough was enough, if the team cut their losses here and robbed no more trucks.... He'd made his choice; and it seemed Dom had, too.

No more looking back. No more regrets.

"Yeah, I can believe _that_. See you tomorrow, Brian." Dom's gaze dropped to Brian's mouth again for a long moment; then he turned and walked away, gilded by the last light of the setting sun. 

The words rang between them like a promise, one Brian could only return in full measure.

"See you tomorrow, Dom," he replied. Then he headed back toward his cot at Harry's, grinning all the while.


End file.
